


I Guess You're Just What I Needed

by Pythia (melancholic_pigeon)



Series: Fate or Something Better [6]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Birthday Sex, Juno is a helicopter parent change my mind, M/M, Sally Jackson needs a goddamn award, Tragic Backstory DumpTM, afterglow fic, fledgling queer experiences, klutzy mostly-virgins, proto-kink undercurrents, some of these fics straddle the line between M and E and this is one of them, summer-before-college idealism, the grecoroman gods were all but universally terrible parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholic_pigeon/pseuds/Pythia
Summary: "Hey." There are gentle fingers running through his hair. Percy tilts his head up, still not totally sure he can form words yet."Mm?"Jason smiles, shy, and nods towards the clock."It's after midnight."
Relationships: Jason Grace/Percy Jackson
Series: Fate or Something Better [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/453601
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101
Collections: Moonlight and Cats





	I Guess You're Just What I Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning in end notes. 
> 
> With the posting of this fic, I hit a milestone: there is now a full novel's worth of work in this series. I'm flabbergasted. I never, ever, _ever_ would have gotten anywhere near this far without you. I know I say this every time, but I swear to god, it's because I mean it with everything I have in me. 
> 
> I wish I could give everyone a slice of blue cake, but giving everyone a slice of virtual blue cake IN MY HEART will have to do.

_August 18th, 2012, 12:06 AM_

_–_

It's quiet and humid. The sound of the waves outside, a soft white noise not quite muffled by the thin walls, wraps around them like protective cotton. Jason is warm, heart hammering under Percy's ear as they lie alongside each other, legs knotted. 

"Hey." There are gentle fingers running through his hair. Percy tilts his head up, still not totally sure he can form words yet. 

"Mm?" 

Jason smiles, shy, and nods towards the clock.

"It's after midnight." 

Grinning, Percy scoots up along the bed and lays on the pillow. This way, he can easily lean in and press his mouth to the scar on Jason's upper lip. Barely noticeable, unless you're either looking for it or kissing him. 

Percy's heart does something funny when he remembers he's the only one at present who gets to do the latter. 

"Best birthday ever." 

And it is, by a landslide. They've messed around before, hushed, clumsy explorations in whatever snatches of privacy they could get, but they've never been alone enough for _this_. For finally, after what felt like endless assurances that the idea had been making Percy squirm for almost two months, agreeing to take his mom's present–a week in Montauk, the cabin totally to themselves–as the gold-plated opportunity it was.

She knew exactly what she was encouraging. If the trip hadn't made that obvious, discovering the variety box of condoms she'd slipped into Percy's backpack would have–which sort of made him want to die of embarrassment, but that feeling never lasts. The surprised, happy look on Jason's face always kicks it out, replacing Percy's self-consciousness with an uncomfortable blend of conflicting emotions. 

On the one hand, it makes him giddy to expose Jason to unconditional parental support, but on the other, the fact that he has to go to _Percy's_ parents for that support because he can't get it from his own is spittle-frothingly rage-inducing. 

When they're at home, the only thing they have to worry about is not getting too handsy in front of the baby or scarring Percy's parents for life, or at most, doing the dishes because Jason felt it was his duty as guest. He'd vehemently insist, saying it was the only way he could think of to express his gratitude, which would make Percy's mom tear up and hug him tight and tell him that being good to her firstborn was all the thanks she needed. 

She's always liked Jason, and she's always worried about him, too. She's certainly heard enough of Percy's ranting to stay on top of the situation, and was already known for remembering everything she's ever been told about someone's tragic backstory. Jason, like most of Percy's friends, was desperately lacking that energy in his life, and by the third visit he'd given her a rundown of his entire life history. 

_I feel like I can tell her anything,_ he'd said to Percy later, thrown off his game by a particularly raw word-vomit. Every bit of it is massively unfair–that Jason's stepmother takes out her anger over her spouse's infidelity on the children who'd had no choice in being born, that his father didn't care enough about him to do anything more than show up once or twice a month and give him a blistering, vaguely threatening lecture, that his mother had barely even remembered he existed, and only by enough to make herself look more pitiable. 

Most upsetting of all was that his sister–seven or eight years old then–had essentially been forced to parent him through toddlerhood by herself, because no one else was paying enough attention to stop a two-year-old from trying to give himself a lip piercing with a stapler. Half the time, nobody else was paying enough attention to feed him, either.

It makes Percy want to throw something out a window. Fortunately for everyone, while she's in agreement, his mom has a lot more experience in channeling her anger productively than he does, and isn't prone to agitating herself into letting it boil over. She focuses instead on making her apartment the coziest, homiest place she possibly can, on showering Jason with all of the maternal adoration and pride he'd been missing out on, and letting him know he could show up on her doorstep at three in the morning without notice and she'd welcome him inside with open arms and a mug of hot tea. 

It's not the same as having her growing up, but it's enough that Jason still thrives under the attention, like a parched plant perking up after a long-awaited rainfall. Uptown, with Jason's actual parents, is a very different story. 

Percy had gone over once, right after they met, and Juno had ambushed them the second they hit the front stoop and spent almost twenty minutes interrogating him before she even let him through the door. It felt like she was putting him through some kind of test, making him prove himself worthy of associating with her protege–because she'd never really treated Jason as her son, molding him instead of caring for him like he was nothing more than clay, hers to shape into whatever she wanted as penance for his existence. Beet red and fourteen, Jason had looked like he was praying with everything in him to be struck down by lightning, and Percy decided then and there that he was never going to be the cause of that kind of humiliation ever again. 

Of course, that doesn't stop them; it just means they have to sneak around by claiming Percy's a very strict tutor who prefers working in his own space, which is technically true–despite the fact that the last few sessions contained a lot more making out than algebra, they'd been study buddies for almost four years and had a rhythm going, and Jason managed to pull an A-minus for his final class. Even the drill sergeants he lived with couldn't complain much, when he graduated with the second-highest GPA in their entire class and acceptance letters from seven of the Ivies.

Apparently, Percy had passed Juno's trial that first meeting, because against all odds she seems to actually like him–probably more because of what he'd done for Jason's SAT scores than anything else. That'd turn on a dime if she knew how right she was to be suspicious, back when she warned Percy against distracting Jason from the priorities she'd chosen for him. 

(She doesn't need to know that Percy's made a point since that browbeating to distract him as much and as often as possible, or that his current project is wearing down her hold on him from the inside out. The first item on his itinerary had been convincing Jason, who wanted to stay in New York so badly the idea of moving two hours away had been making him almost as broody as Nico, to register for Columbia instead of his father's alma mater, and to ward off the shitfit over his defiance by making the argument that it was a better school than Cornell and would look much more impressive on his record.)

"You're sure I didn't hurt you?" 

The interruption isn't unwelcome, cutting off the spiral of righteous indignation before it can take root and ruin the evening. Jason is terrified of his own dick, which wasn't a problem until tonight and he was faced with the idea of actually fucking someone with it, and that's a lot easier to deal with than a shitty home life Percy is helpless to do anything about. 

And, yeah, it was a little intimidating, and maybe Jason was justified in being overly cautious and spending almost an hour on the warmup, throwing himself into the task with a single-mindedness that had Percy gasping before he even got the second finger in. So Percy let himself be as loud as he could, trying to really drive home the point that what Jason wanted, he found irresistible, but the reassurance obviously didn't completely stick. Jason is _still_ worried, judging by the anxious knit of his dark eyebrows as he catches Percy's hand and kisses his palm.

It's equal parts adorable and frustrating, but it also means a whole lot of extended, focused attention, and by the time they got around to the main event, Percy almost felt high off of it–floaty and loose from all of the sensations vying for his processing power. 

"Only how I wanted you to." 

"And you'll tell me if I ever cross a line?" 

"Of course I will. You've seen me tap out plenty of times, it just takes a while to hit my limits." Percy smirks, stretching his arms over his head. "What can I say? I like it rough. You delivered. I actually wouldn't mind it a little rougher, but we can work up to that." 

It's not like he doesn't get it–he's got enough issues of his own that stubbornly cling to him, even when Jason provides him endless encouragement, that he can't judge. But baby steps, like the way the corners of Jason's mouth turn with levity, will add up eventually. For now, Percy's voice feels thick and sleepy, the last vestiges of that euphoria still threaded through him. 

There's something about it that's drawn him as long as he can remember. In the right context, pain makes his nerves sing–especially the kind that comes from rolling around with another person, sweaty and locked against each other. In retrospect, he's kind of an idiot for spending an entire year failing to realize why he had to jerk off after a good half of their friendly matches; he should have noticed from the beginning that it was always the narrow losses, never the wins, that got him hot under the collar.

Jason reaches out and brushes his thumb over Percy's neck, right where he'd bitten, low enough to hide with his shirt. 

"It might take me some time." Those hands are so soft, especially in contrast with the strength of his earlier grip, whispering a zephyr over Percy's skin. "But I'll get there. I _want_ to get there."

"I know. You kept stopping yourself mid-growl, like you were scared I was going to take it back." It was almost a little disappointing, knowing there was something rattling his chains but never quite wrenching away his control. "You just need some time to get used to the idea that some people get off on your aggressive side. And by 'people', I mean 'me'." 

It makes Jason snort with laughter and tighten his grip, and that makes Percy's heart rocket up into his throat. He can't keep himself from beaming, but he can at least bury his face in that broad shoulder while he does it. 

"I have to admit. I was expecting the masochism, given how many times you told me I should be." 

The words stir Percy's hair and make sparks run down his skin. He tilts his head up to see Jason giving him a pointed look, and he finds himself giggling, which is also embarrassing, but Jason's still talking and the depth of his voice makes Percy shiver. Always has, if he's honest with himself.

"What surprised me was how pliant you got." Jason goes hushed, pensive, almost, still gently running his hand over every part of Percy he can reach. "And it surprised me more how strongly _I_ reacted to it." 

The confession is vulnerable and a little startling, and through the heat coming over his face, Percy realizes he should have picked up on that, too. There has never been a moment in as long as they've known each other that some part of Jason didn't feel like he was undeserving of the authority he was starving for, like he shouldn't even want it, let alone be trusted with it. 

"It's because I know you'll take care of me," Percy whispers back–and he was right, judging by the way blue eyes go soft and sweet and hopeful. "That you're not going to make fun of me if I get clingy or try to push me past what I can handle."

It seems to be the thing Jason most needs to hear when he gets like this–that he's a wonderful partner and lover, even if he's still figuring things out, and even if (and sometimes because) he loses his death grip on his self-discipline and gives in to the wild, hungry beast he tries so hard to suppress. 

"I feel useful when I'm taking care of you, and I'm clingier than you are, I just hide it better." The hand on Percy's back runs up towards his spine, making him shiver in the muggy half-breeze of the ancient table fan. "But more importantly, you need to let yourself be taken care of, and I am thoroughly committed to getting you what you need." 

In sync. The idea that Jason feels the same protective fire still awes Percy, every time. 

"You proved that a long time ago." Stomach feeling like mush, He wraps an arm around Jason and nips gently at his collarbone. "You know how much I hate being told what to do in real life, but it took you maybe twelve seconds to figure out that doesn't apply to sex _and_ how to play off my kinks like a fucking fiddle. You're _incredible,_ dude. Nobody's ever been as invested in me as you are."

Jason's heart is still pounding. Percy can feel it against his chin, a vein fluttering in time against his forearm. Still hot, like a glowing coal. The sound of his voice seeps into Percy's bones, warming him too like water struck through with a beam of sunlight. 

" _You_ are incredible, and she's a fool for giving you up, but I'm very glad she did." 

For a second, Jason's voice is like steel, and Percy abruptly remembers how tightly he'd held on after that stupid night. He's holding on tighter now, has been doing it since they got over themselves and admitted to the change in their relationship–he'll catch Percy in an embrace like they haven't seen each other in a decade, and if they're alone follows it up by shoving him against the nearest flat surface and kissing his brains out. 

"I always forget that you–"

Percy stops himself, flushing. Fingers dig into his hip, the same spot that's going to bruise later from how hard Jason held on– _always holds on_ –earlier. 

Okay, so Percy's a little needy, but so is Jason, and that's why they're so good for each other. They're both people-pleasers, too, prone to completely ignoring their own wellbeing in favor of prioritizing someone else's happiness. Together, they cancel each other out–they're like sexy backup generators, making sure that between the two of them, there's at least one fully-functional person, even if they have to pool resources. 

Without saying a word, Jason encourages Percy to continue by running a hand through his hair. As usual, picking up on how easily that settles him down. He's out of excuses to avoid it. 

"That you liked me back then." 

Heart fluttering anxiously, Percy hides his face in Jason's chest again, trying to focus on the shivers running down his neck instead.

"'Like' doesn't even come close."

Just like that, Jason bowls Percy over with the correction. A grand total of five words that send him to the goddamn moon, no matter how many times he hears it.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that." 

There's so much warmth in that smile that even though it's making Percy shake–enough to be noticeable, a hand flattens against his back–it spills over until it envelops both of them in that gentle calm. 

"Won't stop me from saying it." 

It's hard for Percy, and he's still not totally sure why. Maybe he's afraid of the intensity of his own feelings. Despite that sense of security, it sticks in his throat and won't come out. 

"I feel safe with you," he manages, after a long minute of silence. It's the best he can do, hoping that the magnitude of that statement will communicate what he can't seem to unblock. 

"I love you, too." 

Before he knows it, Percy's tearing up, partly in relief that he was understood, and mostly because the actual phrase is even harder to wrap his head around. 

At any second, it feels like everything is going to come crashing down again, that it will become obvious that he isn't long-term-relationship material and getting involved with him was a huge mistake–but Jason holds him like no one else has, passionately close and fiercely protective, and it's slowly warming him to the idea that this time, his worries might be unfounded. 

"You know, I think I believe you," he murmurs, and Jason lights up like a marquee. Somehow, it feels easier to crawl out of his own rut, if he's doing it so he can grab Jason's hand. "I feel like I shouldn't, but I know that's my baggage, and most of the time I can talk myself down from letting it take the wheel." 

"All I want is to remove any shadow of a doubt. I don't care how long it takes."

Jason's still growing, his limbs scattered with bruises from whacking into things. He'd always been broader in his upper torso, even when they were still exactly the same height; of course Percy had been aware of it, but until they started getting this up close and personal, he hadn't felt _small_ since he was in middle school. It's a little weird, but also sort of nice, being so surrounded. 

Abruptly, a thought occurs to him, and a sudden burst of laughter startles him as much as it looks like it startled Jason, who's blinking at him with an eyebrow cocked.

"I just realized why my jealousy over your physique felt so different," he explains, feeling a little sheepishness in his grin. "It's because I wasn't jealous, I was horny. I think I'm a chest man." 

That makes Jason go red–with his shirt off, Percy can see it go down his neck. Even Adonises have a complicated body image sometimes, so Percy stares directly into his eyes as he runs a deliberate hand from Jason's stomach (washboard six-packs are totally useless outside of Marvel movies; the muscle there is padded as it should be for optimum athletic performance) up his left pectoral (the most comfortable pillow in the universe to curl up into) and over his shoulder (the one place Percy is still even with him, proportionally, from the drums and the swimming and the MMA hobby they share), landing on his bicep (right where his skin turns pale at the line of where his t-shirt sleeve sits). 

Just to really dig it in, Percy wets his bottom lip as he drags his thumb in a firm caress. There's basically nothing he's weaker to right now than those fucking guns, and if not here, tonight, where _can_ he really lay the appreciation on as thick as he feels like? 

Jason replies by flipping him onto his back before he can react, holding him down against the mattress with a grip like iron. 

"If you haven't already figured out I'm an ass man–" the words hit Percy right in the cock, and he's tilting his hips before he even knows he's moving–"I'm not doing my job correctly."

"It's great that we have complimentary preferences." It's a little more breathless than Percy was expecting, but that's okay, because it makes Jason put more of his weight into the pin, which makes Percy rock his hips again–

–and, finally, there it is. A noise, rumbling deep in that huge torso, wolfish. Primal. 

Since it's his birthday, Percy excuses himself for winding his limbs around Jason and raking nails down his back, letting the demanding part of him rise to the surface. 

"What are you gonna do about it?" he needles, just to see if he can make Jason growl louder, and finding out very quickly that he can. Easily. 

"You're the birthday boy. Anything you want." 

It would have seemed mild and permissive before, but Percy is pretty sure his wrists will be slightly bruised tomorrow and he can feel Jason stiffening against his thigh. Contextually, with that smirk, it's almost an order. _Tell me what you're aching for. Look at me when I'm talking to you._

"Anything?" 

"Anything." Jason grinds his hips once, and Percy pushes back, excitement crawling up his spine in a rush. 

He meets Jason's eyes. Even in the darkness, they're so crystal-blue it's mesmerizing. 

"Wreck me," Percy asks, or maybe begs, burning hot at every point of contact between them. 

Jason doesn't talk after that, but it doesn't matter. Percy doesn't either, too busy focusing on the sensations and the heat and the strong hands pulling him apart, just so he can be put back together again. 

It's not the first time he's been involved with someone a little broken– _he's_ a little broken, or maybe a lot, depending on the day and how reminiscent he's feeling; his running theory is that trauma attracts trauma–but it's the first time he's felt like his sharp edges line up with someone else's. 

It'll take time, like Jason said, but they fit together like that Greek myth about how lovers used to be one single being, and as they wind against each other in the dark cabin by the sea, Percy feels like he can handle just about anything being nineteen throws at him.

A long as Jason's by his side, looking at him like he's beautiful and ready to take his arm when they hit rocky ground, he'll be invincible. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Content warning:** mentions of child abuse and neglect.
> 
> I don't know what's wrong with my Fluff Muscle lately. I promised something light, and this is. Not that. 8D; October through April was the "comfort" part of "hurt/comfort", and my brain's been latching onto the "hurt" since May, I guess? This kind of feels like it's eking more towards a middle ground, though.
> 
> I have around 1300 words done on chapter 9 of With Cream, which...also doesn't count, but is heavily dog-centric. It's the least I can do, at this point. Sob. 
> 
> Thank you for everything, all of you, whether you're new or have been following for a while. Take care of yourselves as well as you can, beloveds.


End file.
